The Truth Between The Lies
by XxPrincexKyoxX
Summary: It's been four years since the War and Harry is now 22 years old. He lives alone, trusting no one. After coming out about being gay, Ron and Hermione were the only ones that stood by him. Or were they..?
1. Chapter 1

**Evening all. So, this is my firs fanfiction. Tell me what you think about it because I don't want to continue if my writing is crap. I'll be uploading a chapter every week (Hopefully) and eventually I'll actually finish something! =D I hope you enjoy the story thus far.**

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It's been so long...The war ended with so many broken hearts. Lost souls, lost loves...

The immediate years after the war were filled with trials and tribulations. Many wizards went to Azkaban. Others were put under parole. And yet again, Harry Potter was labeled a hero.

It's not like he had ever not been one to society. Just that it had never been as uprooted as it was just after the war. Not since he was a baby. But what could the raven haired boy do? There was no stopping the _Daily Prophet_ from writing those damned articles. How many times had he walked down the street, only to be pointed at and whispered about. Some people with awed expressions, others in disgust. It had become somewhat vexatious in his mind. Not to mention that, since the wizarding world saw him as some big thing, whenever he did something, everyone knew about it. The problem with being a celebrity was that whenever you did something that would be considered normal for everyone else, it was suddenly a big huge topic of gossip. Like when he broke it off with Ginny. Oh Merlin, the articles that _that _one inspired.

Did he dislike being famous? Yes. Yes he did. Aside from killing his parents, that's something else that he will forever curse Voldemort for. For making him a famous icon. He just wanted to live a normal life.

Yet again, he found himself pondering this same thing as he stood outside of a small cauldron shop in Diagon Ally, starring at the days _Daily Prophet_ newspaper. There, on the front page, was a picture of Harry (of course) sitting next to Ron at the Quidditch World Cup just a few days ago. At the time Ron had been giving the green eyed boy a brown paper bag with a book inside about a new Quidditch player named Marcus Flint. The headline? "Is Our Beloved Hero into Heroine?" Harry swore, they took everything someone did and turned it into something vile.

"Bah" Waving his hand at the ridiculous paper, Harry turned away and started walking again. The things people came up with always astounded him, however he rarely got involved. Let them think what they want, he knew the truth. Although, it was hard not to blush and duck his head when a few older witches scowled at him and wagged their fingers, newspapers in front of their noses. Desperate to get away from the stares and glares of pedestrians, Potter slipped inside the nearest store he could find. Just a quaint little coffee shop. Running fingers through his unruly black hair, he walked up to stand in line at the counter. Out of the corner of his eye Harry saw a man sitting in the back, tea cup in hand, magazine in the other, with his feet up as an enchanted broom swept the floors. He turned to look for a moment before turning away again. Magic would always seem so out of this world to him. He never got tired of it.

"Next!" The scratchy voice of the store clerk called forth to whoever was next in line, which happened to be Harry. Stepping up to the counter he gave her a dazzling smile, unaware he was doing so, and tilted his head so a few strands of black hair fell into those intensely green eyes of his.

"Evening ma'am. Can I have a black coffee please?" He watched as the red headed woman behind the counter nodded in awe at him as she turned around and started stumbling to make him a cup of coffee. _What's her problem?_ He wondered. Reaching into his back pocket he pulled out his wallet and handed her the money for the coffee before turning away and going to sit down and drink in peace. However, being famous as he was, peace often evaded him. For instance, he caught a couple of young girls starring at him from another table across the shop. Fifth years, by the looks of it. He turned his head away and starred out the window, pretending he was somewhere very far away. Very far away indeed.

During his daydreaming, Harry noticed a very familiar face standing outside the coffee shop, looking as though he had forgotten something. And that was what tipped Harry off. Smirking, he finished the rest of his coffee and walked out, hands in his pockets as he walked up to his old time friend. Neville Longbottom hadn't changed in all the years since the war. Since the beginning actually. He was still just as forgetful as ever.

"Evening Neville. You look like you've lost something." The raven haired boy watched as his old friend dug around in his pockets and the grocery bags he was carrying.

"Ah! Hello Harry! Haven't seen you in a long time. I want to say about four years now? Oh! Yes. I seem to have misplaced my sunglasses..." Trying to stifle a laugh, Potter reached up and pulled the sunglasses off of his friends head and gave them too him. Neville smiled bashfully and put them on his squinted eyes. Over the years Neville had lost of his baby fat and had also apparently grown a bit of muscle. It made him look so different than the child that Harry had known in his years at Hogwarts.

"Much better. So. What brings you to Diagon Ally Harry?"

"Oh nothing really. Just thought I'd get out for a while." Harry leaned against the nearest light pole and watched as Neville moved out of the way for someone passing by on a broom. Afterward he stood beside Harry, shouldering the briefcase bag he wore.

"Have you heard from Ron lately? I hear him and Hermione are getting married."

"Yeah, they are. You should see the rock that Ron got for her. I'm going to be his best man at the wedding. How have things been at St. Mungo's?" After the war, Neville went on to work at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. According to the _Daily Prophet_ his work had been phenomenal thus far.

"Things are going great! My parents have been doing better too, though I'm not allowed to work with them. Familiarity and all that." The brunette boy rubbed the back of his head and he looked around. Harry just nodded and smiled. It was nice to see someone from his childhood after so long of seclusion. Of course, he still saw Ron and Hermione but that was a given. They were his best friends and his biggest supporters.

"Say, where are you living Harry? Did you really sell Sirius's house?" Neville's voice almost sounded sad as he asked and Harry nearly bit his tongue off in the attempt to pretend he didn't care about what he had just said.

"I'm living in a small house out in the country away from everyone. Heh. And yes, I sold Sirius's home. To a very lovely couple who needed a big place for their family to grow. I've already had wizards come in and help me make it suitable for living so there's no need to worry." He added the last bit when he saw Neville's nervous face about how Harry gave the house to a family. Smirking at how fast the boy's face reverted to that of relief, the green eyed 'hero' patted his shoulder.

"I have to get going. Lots of things to do. I'll see you later alright?"

"Of course. OH! Harry! Before I forget, I have a message for you somewhere here." Neville started digging in his brief case again and Harry grimaced slightly. If Neville forgot where he put the message it could take forever for him to get to it. Harry didn't really want to take the chance. He pulled out a pen from his pocket and grabbed a piece of paper from Neville's bag. He wrote down his address and gave it back to Neville, smiling kindly.

"Owl me. I have to go. Bye Neville!" Before the brunette could argue, Harry turned and crossed the street, walking away and going towards Florrish and Blotts to buy some parchment and quills. He was running low at home. See, while everyone else got jobs in the ministry or went on to get muggle jobs or play Quidditch professionally, Harry decided to stay home and become a writer. So far he had written two books about defensive spells. He was on his third book and it was coming along swimmingly. All he needed now was one more spell and he'd be finished.

After buying what he needed, Harry decided that it was time to leave. He slipped out through the Leaky Cauldron and caught a cab that took him out to the edge of London. It was peaceful out there, much better than he could have ever hoped. He walked a little ways up a deserted path where he found an old abandoned shack. This was where he had stashed his broom for the day so he could go out. Taking it out and straddling it, he kicked off from the ground and zoomed a little farther out into nowhere. Which was precisely where he lived.

He remembered it clearly, the day he bought the house. He had just put Sirius's house up on the market and was flying around the countryside for something to do when he saw the FOR SALE sign in the front yard. It was two stories high and white with red trim and a black tiled roofing. The porch sagged a bit and the paint was chipping. Windows dusty and a tractor beside the old thing in the shade, hiding from the summer sun. It was perfect. He stashed his broom in the woods just down the road and walked by, got the number, called, and bought it on the spot. The owners seemed to be particularly happy to be rid of it. And Harry soon found out why. The roof leaked, the basement flooded, bees invaded the wood work during the summer, bugs were always getting into the house, and the woods were home to numerous kinds of animals. One of the animals being a lone wolf that had often scarred the happy couple off the property in the middle of the day when they were mowing the grass. It didn't frighten our fine 'hero' though. Oh no. He started putting out meat for the wolf, and soon he befriended it. It didn't take long. Apparently animals really liked Harry. And Harry really liked the wolf. It reminded him of Sirius. It's fur was just as black. It's eyes were a hazel colour that made Harry think of swamps though. After getting all the paperwork filed out, he made the wolf his own pet. And it was more than happy to go along with him.

A few years had gone by since then and Harry had fixed up the house to near perfection and Jet, the wolf, normally stayed and slept outside. Today though, Harry had let him inside so he could bask in the cool air of the house. He had put an air conditioner in the window just last week since the weather was getting so hot out lately. It was going to be a long summer.

Upon entering the house, Jet jumped up on Harry, nearly tackling him to the ground, his tail wagging and his tongue lolling out of the side of his mouth just like a dog.

"Jeeze Jet! You're as big as I am! I think you need to quit it with the whole growing thing." His joking received a playful growl and a howl from his 'little' friend who then proceeded to lick his face and nip his chin playfully. Harry laughed and scratched behind his ears, pushing him off gently so he could calm him down. Eventually, Jet bounded off to go lay down on his bed in front of the air conditioner, yawning big though his tail continued to wag.

"Silly wolf." Harry chuckled and Jet growled again. The raven haired boy went to go put his things away upstairs in his study before going back downstairs and starting dinner. The night continued on in much the same manner as always and eventually, in the early hours of the morning, Harry finally went to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Ello Everyone! Second chapter here. It's a little...eh. Not my best but I kept running into a few problems while writing it. Like road block type stuff. Anyway, ENJOY! Next chapter coming soon. _Warning:_ Torture and sexual content involved.**

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The sun filtered in through the windows at an odd angle, it's light very nearly too much to bare. It was the same light that woke Harry from his slumber. Frustrated and aching with sleep, his eyelids fluttered open, thick black lashes doing very little to shade his eyes against the merciless glare of the summer morning. Groaning, he stretched and sat up, glaring down at the floor where the sunlight made squares through his windows. There wasn't much to do today, much like any other day.

Eventually, he managed to slip out of the comfortable bed he had bought a while back and shuffle his way towards the door of his bedroom, hearing Jet's barks from downstairs, begging him to let the black wolf out for the day.

"Yeah, yeah, I hear ya." The green eyed man smiled when he bounded over and started licking at Harry's fingers. _Playful today are you?_ He opened the door and let the happy hound race outside and start running around in the grass that Harry had to cut soon. Shaking his head, he walked back into the house, shutting the door and slipping into the downstairs bathroom to take a shower.

The water ran cool, just the way he liked it, and thebath was big enough for him to lay in if he wanted too. But a bath was not what he wanted right now. Stripping off his pajamas, he stepped under the beating water and sighed. It massaged his still tired muscles and woke him up. His once unruly hair lay flat on his head and clung to his face and neck. It was very nearly in his eyes. A haircut was evident in his future. These were the kind of mundane thoughts he often had in order to keep his demons at bay. The demons he had had all his life as well as a few new ones that had sprouted not too long ago. He kept his mind in check so he wouldn't be reminded of that day. That night. Worse things could have happened. They happened to everyone everyday. Why did it matter if it happened to him? The fact that it hadn't leaked to the public only made him think even more that what had happened was no big deal. But of course, he knew it was. He knew that the only reason it hadn't leaked was because he didn't tell anyone. And neither had _**HE. **_The cause of his nightmares, his demons. The same demons that scratched at the back of his mind, clawing their way to the surface. He forced them back with populous strength that he could only muster once a day. If they tried again it wouldn't be as easy. But they wouldn't because he would keep his mind clear and filled with normal, boring, mundane thoughts as always. The water was cool, the bottom of the bath was slick, the feeling of the soap in his hair was soothing. The way the soap fell down his body in lines of thick suds was even more soothing.

All washed and ready for the day, Harry turned off the water and stepped out, wrapping a towel around his waist after drying off his hair. He lived alone, so what did it matter if he walked around half naked right? He brushed his teeth and combed his hair, hoping when it dried completely it would stay straight for once. However, he could see it starting to stick up at odd angles already as a few strands began drying. Grimacing and grunting, he walked out and dripped himself through the house to the kitchen where he started a pot of boiling water. A nice cup of tea to start his day would be wonderful. For some reason, he felt as though he was being watched and, as he turned around to head towards the cupboard to get his favorite cereal from the shelf, he realized he WASN'T alone. It wasn't a person though, which was nice. A barn owl, the size that Hedwig had been, sat on the back of the kitchen chair, a white envelope in his beak.

"Uh...Well then..." Blinking, he walked over and took the envelope, watching as it soared out the window rather hastily.

"Won't you stay for tea?" He joked, raising an eyebrow at how fast the thing had left. It must be new to the whole mail business. No matter, because as Harry looked down at the letter, he noticed It was from Neville. It must have been the note he finally found. With a weary glance, Harry wondered if he even WANTED to read the note. He had been so secluded from society for so long, what did it matter? If it was an invitation to tea it's not like he would go. He'd probably make up some kind of excuse to keep himself at home. If it was a number or an address so he could be in touch with someone it's not like he would actually write to them or call them. He liked his solitude and he planned to keep it that way. Just him and Jet. Still, curiosity spiked and he opened the letter despite himself, wondering exactly who the note was from anyway. There were two pieces of paper inside, one in Neville's clumsy scrawl and another letter in a hand he didn't quite recognize. Neville's letter read...:

_Hey Harry. Sorry I couldn't get to the note before you left, but I found it! It was in my pants pocket! Good thing I put it in the right one. The left pocket has a hole from when I was helping my grandmother move her couch. I should probably get it fixed...Anyway! Here's the note. I was told to give it to you on sight. Not sure why though. Oh well. I told him I said I would so I did. Mission accomplished huh? -Neville_

Harry just starred at the letter, blinking. What had he just read? Confusion was replaced with more curiosity. Him? Who was him? Harry picked up the second letter. There were a few words and then an address with a number and a name at the bottom that made Harry's stomach twist and turn.

_It's been a long time, Harry Potter. I have something urgent I need to discuss with you. I've left my address and number at the bottom of this note. Don't forget to call or visit. It's important. And don't hide from me like you're hiding from everyone else. I'm very good at finding people you see. -Draco Malfoy._

Harry starred at the elegant script and blinked some more, in pure shock. Draco wanted to talk to him? Why? What did it matter? And what did they have to discuss? Last he checked Draco hated Harry's guts. It was proven that night on the street when Draco had found him. The demons clawed again and this time he winced as he tried to push them away. He left Draco's letter on the table as he walked out of the kitchen, moving up to his bedroom to change into a pair of jeans and a button up shirt for the day. Except he forgot to button the shirt when he heard the kettle steaming down on the stove. Muttering a curse word he raced to the scene of the screeching and took the little brass pot off the burner and set it aside to cool a bit. The open window that the owl had flown through let a soft breeze whisper through his kitchen and he turned to shut it, but not before a familiar glint caught his eye.

Perhaps he was just paranoid because of the letter, or perhaps it was because all of his time alone had finally started to get too his head, but Harry had sworn he had seen an unmistakable shock of bright platinum blonde hair fly by down the road past his house. He knew there was another family of wizards up the hill from him but who they were he had never cared to find out until now. Did Malfoy live up the road from him? Certainly not, that would be ridiculous. He checked the note again and read to the street name. It wasn't until the third time he read it that he realized that Draco's handwriting made it damn near impossible to tell what the word was. One more look out the window and Harry was convinced that he most likely did live on the same street. At least, the street name on the letter looked much like the street name he knew to be his own. He shut it with a bang and closed the blinds, buttoning up his shirt finally and tending to his tea.

….

It was late into the night, nearing early morning, when Harry finally realized that perhaps it was time to go to bed. He had been sitting in his office for nearly ten hours now, working on typing up his book and making sure his spell worked properly, the way he showed his readers it should be done. The sun had gone down long ago and the sky outside was like a thick black blanket, the stars little diamonds in the weaving. Of course, he couldn't see the sky. It was hidden behind his long, dark red curtains that matched the interior of the dark office. Maroon carpeting and cheery wood cabinets and desk. The walls were a red much like the carpet and two lights occupied each side of the door. He liked the way that the room made him feel so cut off from everything. His little slice of solitude felt so peaceful. The desk faced the wall adjacent too the door and if he leaned back and reached out, he could touch the curtains beside him and open them to let the moonlight filter into the room and throw everything into a midnight glow. But he didn't. He refused because his laptop was on and it caused a small light to shadow the study, the book cases behind him looking eerie because of it, and any form of light against the windows would cause a reflection.

And Harry hated reflections.

He hadn't always hated reflections. There was never a reason too and he had never really thought he would. But ever since that night...That horrible night that stung his eyelids when he closed them to sleep...well...ever since then he had hated reflections. Because when he saw his own, he could see the face of _**that man**_ standing behind him, smiling that evil sneer and that malicious glint visible even though the image was blurry and faded. Once Harry realized that he was never actually there, that it was just his mind playing tricks, he had destroyed every mirror in his house and gotten rid of ANYTHING that caused a reflection. The contents of a few cabinets were left without protection because he had removed the glass that was nestled in their doors. The one television he had was thrown out the window and smashed on the ground, littering it with broken shards of what it used to be. He had destroyed everything that reminded him of that night. The clothes he had worn, the bedsheets he had slept in, any alcohol like the kind that had clung to his breath like a child in the night holding onto their blanket because of the fear of the dark. His life took a downward spiral and he had left Grimwald Place because that was where it happened and he never wanted to be reminded of the fact that it even HAD happened. Was it not enough that he had memories of the war still haunting him that now he had to suffer through these memories as well? The ones that were crippling him now as he saved his progress and shut down his computer. Now as he stood, body shaking and heart racing, getting ready to go to his room with only the light at the tip of his wand to guide his way after uttering the magic word. Now as he slipped down the hallway, clinging to the cream coloured walls and pretending his footsteps on the birch wood flooring didn't sound like _**his **_had that night. Now as he crumpled into a shivering heap at the edge of his bed, arms wrapping around himself and ignoring the fact that he had scars on his back that were starting to tingle with the memory of that whip piercing his skin again and again.

He was starting to remember very clearly, yet again, what had happened and that was never a good thing. He fell onto his side, gripping his head and pulling on tuffs of his unruly raven hair as he let out a silent scream. His body curled in on itself and he felt like he was being ripped apart with fear. That disgusting man's voice ravaged his mind and tore it open, bringing forth memories that would destroy his sanity. He felt dirty and disgusting and exposed. Like he was standing naked in a cage and everyone was staring at him with the same look of disdain, knowing what he had done and what had been done to him. Their eyes were black with rage and hate and the thought of 'well that's what he deserves for not being a better person. A cleaner person.' He shuddered on the hard floor of his bedroom, hardly realizing that he was starting to fall into unconsciousness, his mind unable to take the pain and weight of his thoughts. Eventually, he shivered and screamed himself into the deep depths of sleep, only to be haunted by images of those eyes. Of that curl of his slim red lips and the yellow teeth. The last words that man had said to him echoed in his mind and he couldn't seem to find comfort in the fact that they were meaningless now that Harry had left and was somewhere no one could find him..

"_I'm not finished with you." _

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The house was tall. Two stories like his own but different in the fact that it was bigger. Wider even. The walls were made of dark red brick, the roof the same kind of black tile as his. It was quaint and old fashioned and held some elegant charm somehow with the way the vines traveled up the sides of the house and clung to the crevices of the bricks. It turned out that this house was indeed just up the road from him. A few miles away actually.

Draco Malfoy's house was nothing like what he had expected. It was nice in itself, very nice, but it wasn't fancy or expensive looking. It wasn't lavish or anything of the sort. Nothing like what the manor to look like. Nothing, at all, like what he would expect Draco to own. It was intimidating because he knew who owned that house. He knew those ice gray eyes that could burn into someone's back so bad it felt like someone was placing a red hot iron to your skin. He knew that bright blonde hair that glowed in the sun like some form of halo that didn't match the confident and conceited expression on the one it wreathed. He knew the strong shoulders and the narrow waist. And it intimidated him. Perhaps that's why this was his third time standing at the door and he was still trying to convince himself he had the gall to go inside for once.

The past two days had been just like this one. He had had gotten up telling himself that today he would actually go down and go in. He told himself that until he actually got to this door, the sunlight making the flowers in the garden at the side of the house gleam and sparkle, indicating they had just been watered. It had happened just the same way today. He had called Malfoy that morning and just like the first morning that deep, melodic voice had caught him off guard. Malfoy had GROWN over the years. He had, undoubtedly, slipped into manhood beautifully. He had told the blonde boy he would be down sometime today. Which did happen. He would go down. And then come right back home and say he had to cancel. It was the third day of this and it had been clear in Malfoy's voice that he was getting tired of the game. So Harry had decided that if he didn't go in this time, he would just not come back at all. He would stay away and he would pretend he had never gotten the note and he would continue his life. Too late.

The door to the house opened and standing there, leaning against the door frame and looking every bit the god that Harry expected him to look like, was Draco Malfoy, a sly grin on his face. The expression in the beautiful stormy eyes was knowing and curious.

"After two days of watching you turn tail I decided perhaps it was time I just caught you in the act. Welcome." His voice, so smooth and silky, it reminded Harry of satin. Had he always been this gorgeous? Harry knew that he had had a soft spot for the boy ever since their supposed -to-be-seventh-year when Draco had lied about not being able to recognize him in the manor, but boy, how age only did the man justice. Okay, perhaps soft spot had been too vague of a phrase. He was completely MAD for him. And as he stood there, stuttering over himself with wide green eyes the colour of emeralds, he couldn't help but realize those feelings were being dredged back up from the depths of his heart. Finally realizing that perhaps he should say something, he cleared his throat and stuffed his hands into his jeans pockets.

"I...Wasn't sure if you were home before..." Harry's rough deep voice was a heavy contrast to that gorgeous voice that somehow reminded him of music. The same voice that was now mingling with a rich laughter that had Harry's heart sputtering like the wings of a hummingbird.

"Right. And I'm a goblin at Gringots Bank. Don't lie Harry, you've never been very good at it."

"Liar." Harry's bottom lip jutted out into a slight pout. If he wasn't a good liar then Malfoy would already know his feelings and surely he would have been shunned away by now. Instead, the beautiful blonde just chuckled and stepped aside, allowing Harry entrance to his house. The raven headed boy entered, looking around cautiously. It was, again, nothing like what he expected. It was quite normal actually. The front door opened up to a hallway with stairs off to the right. The flooring was a slightly darker shade than his own at his house and the walls were made of blue and white wallpaper. The white on top and the blue beneath that. It had a certain smell to it that made Harry feel so much more comfortable than he probably should. Almost earthy in a way but still too crisp and clear to be earthy. Beachy maybe. There was a single painting on the hallway wall, one of Malfoy's parents, smiling in a very dignified way. A coat rack stood off to the side of the door and a black jacket hung off one of the pegs. He made his way down the hall to the first door as Malfoy shut the door behind them. In the back of Harry's mind he realized that Malfoy hadn't locked the door. It made him feel a bit uneasy but at the same time safe. An odd thing for anyone else but normal for him.

The first door in the hallway was off to the left and when one walked through it they would find themselves in a room with dark green carpeting and white walls. The furniture included a large emerald couch with black wood legs and an elegantly swirling pattern on the fabric that matched the chair sitting across from it. Both pieces faced a fireplace of the same red brick as outside but on the wall above it hung a flat screen television that Harry decided not too look at for even a moment. In the corner was a plant that was drooping though it seemed that was normal for it. More pictures on the walls of various things. A shelf by the door that held movies and another to the other side that held books.

"Make yourself comfortable. Would you like some tea?" Harry made his way to the books, deciding to see what Malfoy had in his collection. There was a vast amount of muggle books, some of which he enjoyed himself. There were also quite a few wizarding books that caught his eye. He hadn't read many any wizard books in the time that he himself had been a wizard and he found his curiosity peaking.

"Sure..." His voice was obviously distracted and he didn't noticed how Malfoy watched him a moment, a small smirk on his face before disappearing to the kitchen where he started to make the tea. Harry bent, running his finger along the spine of one of the books. It was called 'Mischief With Magic.' It sounded interesting. He pulled it out and sat down on the floor, cross legged, and read the back of it. Apparently is was about a few boys who went to a muggle school together, knowing full well they were wizards. They started using magic to run a muck and apparently got in trouble. But that's all it said. It seemed a little interesting. Childish maybe, but fun none the less. It was pretty thick though which made him wonder what else happened. He opened it up and started on the first place, automatically getting lost in the world of magic and wizards and the detailed way the author wrote. He was in the middle of the first chapter by the time Malfoy came back with the tea. Hearing the soft musical chuckle Harry turned and looked up at those disarmingly gray eyes that was somewhat obscured by strands of bright blonde hair. It had grown since the war. It hung around his waist now and Harry couldn't help noticing how good it looked on him.

"Here you are. I hope it's too your liking." He handed Harry a cup and the green eyed boy took it without question, eyes big as he looked at it. He wasn't sure if he should trust it. After all, Draco had always hated him. Which brought him back to his very first curious thought ever since this whole thing started.

"What did you call me here for Malfoy?" He looked up at the angel above him who sat on the chair beside him, graceful as always. He looked over to Harry, expression unreadable as he leaned forward and placed his cup of steaming tea on the coffee table between the chair and couch. He crossed his legs and leaned on the arm of the chair, chin on his knuckles and Harry stood up, taking the book with him as he walked over and sat down on the couch, seeming uncomfortable. The blonde wasn't smiling anymore and it made him feel uneasy.

"Harry...What happened to you? The night I found you..." All at once everything teetered and Harry felt like he was going to fall off the couch. He hadn't really recovered from three nights ago when he had screamed himself to sleep. The memories were still haunting him and it seemed as though he might be reaching a break through but how that break through came around he would never know. Until it did though, he was constantly remembering what had happened...

The air outside had been cold. A winter night if ever there was one. The snow was slowly falling into his hair and he was coming back from grocery shopping. He had actually begun living at Grimwald Place after the war, before he sold it because of this exact night. The snow crunched under his feet easily and his breath came out in white wisps of smoke. The air made his lungs burn and his teeth chatter but he felt happy, content. Voldemort was dead, he still had his best friends with him, and Ginny wasn't his girlfriend anymore. It made him feel free to really show his true colours.

The night was just a few nights after he had come out that he was gay and the _Daily Prophet_ had, of course, printed out a big article about it. They weren't really hateful this time, just suspicious and trying to make something out of nothing. Perhaps the break up was because Harry found a new MAN to make him happy. Ginny couldn't satisfy him enough so he went gay. Things of that sort. In all reality they had just grown apart and Harry realized he had never loved her truly in the first place. They parted as friends.

He had just gotten to the front door when he felt the presence that had been there ever since he left the market. The same presence he had been trying to ignore. Eyes shifting to the side, he saw a shadow duck behind one of the bushes out front and his heart started speeding up. He reached for his wand but it was too late. The man jumped from the bushes and pointed his knobby wand in Harry's direction.

"Well well well, if it isn't Harry Potter." And all at once Harry felt as though he was going to be sick. That voice was so familiar. It had never been very kind to him back in school but suddenly it was harsh and thick with underlying intent. Intent that Harry was sure would leave him feeling like hell and a wish to die at the forefront of his mind. That voice was purring and filled with desire. That voice belonged to Blaise Zabini who stood in front of him in all his disgraced glory.

"B-Blaise...What are you-"

"Shut it Potter and open the door..." Blaise had made his way over to him by now and was pointing his wand at Harry's temple, a threat in his eyes. Harry knew that he wouldn't be quick enough to hex him and Blaise would curse him before he did anyway. The grocery's lay forgotten on the sidewalk and Harry just starred up at those evil brown eyes filled with malice and he did as told, opening the door and stepping inside. He reached for his wand the moment he was in and turned to hex Blaise out of his house, fear gripping him and causing him to feel shaky. Blaise beat him too it.

"Imperio!" Suddenly Harry felt that familiar relaxing feeling. Calm and able to breath. Back in school, he remembered overcoming this curse but for some reason now, he felt as though he wasn't going to be able too. Perhaps it was because, without the curse, fear was still gripping him, crippling him. He tried though. He tried with all his might to push the curse away as he watched Blaise enter the house, a grin on his face that made Harry's gut twist with the threat to throw up the bile in his throat.

"Forward Harry. Now." Trying as hard as he could not to obey, Harry's feet still brought him sluggishly through the house, listening to Balise's directions until he was at a door in the back of the house. Behind the door was an empty room with nothing but a shelf of books in the far corner and a bed across from it.

"Drop your wand Harry." Blaise ordered him in a purring voice and Harry did as told, his fingers stiff as he tried harder and harder. It was starting to come to him, this urge to protect himself and to beat Blaise to a pulp for humiliating him like this.

"Now. Open the door." He was too close for comfort. His breath shuddering against the back of Harry's neck and shivers racked his spine. All at once, he snapped and turned, pushing Blaise away and glaring at him with a fury that could have burned the house down. But Blaise was better at magic than he guessed. Since the war Blaise had been working in the lower branches of the ministry so they could keep an eye on him and in the two years he had been there, Blaise must have gotten better at concentrating.

"Crucio!" Those baleful eyes never left Harry's face and he could feel himself being crippled with pain from the inside out. He had only felt this once before. Like he was being burned and ripped apart all at once. Like something was trying to break free of him from the inside and he screamed, falling to the floor in a crumpled heap. Blood roared in his ears and his head felt like it would pop off with the pressure of the curse. And just as soon as it started, it was taken away. Panting, Harry starred up at that dark face, filled with the intent of winning. Zabini bent to stare at Harry, smile crazed as he brushed the hair from Harry's eyes with the tip of his wand.

"Get up Harry" Blaise himself opened the door and kicked Harry into the room, causing him to scramble to his feet and cough up some blood from the strength of kick. Wiping his lip, he starred over at the now ugly man. Teeth yellow and his once brown eyes suddenly red in the dark face they were placed on. He felt sick as Blaise shut the door and starred at him, trying to get off the floor, with a tilted head.

"You know Harry...I've never really liked you. But since I fear that no one's going to really give you what you want anytime soon, I figured why not give it too you myself? Pity is a strange thing." Blaise had managed to back Harry to the wall, walking towards him with an evil aura surrounding him and suddenly Harry knew exactly what this was about. He swallowed back the bile and starred at him, breathing heavily.

"Stay away from me." His voice was firm despite the fact that he felt like he would collapse in fear.

"Now now Harry, we all know that someone like you can't deny someone of such pure blood as I" Blaise took another step forward and Harry's heart skipped, breathing hitched.

"GET AWAY FROM ME!"

"CRUCIO!" Harry was crumbled in pain again and he screamed, louder and louder the longer it lasted. After a few minutes it was released and blood was dripping from Harry's nose and lips. He sputtered, watching it sprinkle the ground and suddenly Blaise was kneeling over him, pushing him to the ground and his voice was in his ear, breath too hot and smelling like alcohol.

"Don't fight with me Harry. You were strong once but not anymore. I'm stronger now." And as if to prove his point, he picked Harry up by his neck, pinning him to the wall with his wand pointed at his face. Harry kicked and tried to scream, his vision going black as the air was cut off from his lungs for a second too long.

"Let me show you what you want so badly Harry." He threw the boy into the wall above the bed and Harry fell onto it, feeling the springs in his sore body. He tried to scramble away but Blaise waved his wand and the springs broke free of the bed and wrapped around Harry's wrist, pulling him to the bed so he was laying on his stomach. He struggled, trying to break free but the only thing that happened was the springs pulled tighter and cut into his skin. He felt his coat and shirt being ripped off and the cold air beat against his suddenly exposed skin like whips. Only then did he realize that Blaise was actually whipping him, the spell he remembered from days of study in Defense Against The Dark Arts classroom. Tears pricked his eyes and his glasses slipped off his nose and fell too the floor.

"N-NO!" He tried to struggle again but Blaise hit him again and he cried out, trying to pull free again.

"Don't disobey me Harry!" Another hit. Blood was dribbling down his back and staining the hem of his pants and the bed beneath him. He felt the need to get out of there as soon as he could but he wasn't able to find the strength to do so. Then the whips stopped and he felt too cold fingers running over the burning marks and it stung like nothing he'd felt before. He cried out again, struggling. Blaise pulled his head back, ripping out a few strands of his hair in the process, and licked up his neck, his knee digging between Harry's legs.

"You won't enjoy this, Boy Who Lived" And then he bit down much too hard on Harry's neck, drawing blood. His pants were gone the next second and so were his boxers, disappearing somewhere in the dark corners of the room. Springs wrapped around his ankles and dug into his skin, restraining him even harder to the bed. He closed his eyes against the vision of Blaise undressing himself, slowly, in front of him.

"Open your eyes Harry..." When Harry didn't, Blaise took him by the chin and lifted his head, nearly snapping it back.

"I said open your eyes Harry." And Harry did, opening them slightly as he breathed heavily, shudderingly. Blaise was smiling in his face, crazed and power hungry.

"Good boy." And he continued to undress, his wand pointed at Harry and the cruciatus curse on the tip of his tongue. Blaise's erect member sprang up once the brief's were shed and the thick, pulsing prick curved up to Blaise's navel, dripping pre cum. He chuckled menacingly and Harry cringed, shaking suddenly. There was no way...He moved forward, and placed it directly in Harry's face.

"As a reward...Suck it." The green eyed boy starred up at him with wild eyes. The sight was slightly blurry without his glasses but he could still see those eyes glowing red with hunger and when Harry didn't open his mouth, the dark skinned man pushed the tip of his erection against Harry's lips, rubbing the cum over them and causing Harry to grimace and shudder.

"Open up Harry. Now." Voice demanding, Harry knew if he didn't another wave of torture would come. So, hesitantly, Harry opened his lips and the moment they were open wide enough, Blaise shoved his throbbing cock down Harry's throat. Hearing the moans of the lips of the disgusting, too strong man before him, Harry's eyes squeezed shut. It was painful, having Blaise shove inside his throat again and again, much too rough. Harry's face turned red then slightly purple as his breathing was obscured and made difficult. Tears streamed down his cheeks and mixed with the blood that had dripped from his nose and mouth before and before it was too much, Blaise pulled out, dripping with saliva and cum now. It dribbled down Harry's chin and when he saw Blaise moving towards Harry's backside, he started fussing again.

"Immobulus." And suddenly Harry couldn't move a single thing. He could feel Blaise gripping his hips much too hard, leaving bruises, and he could feel him breaking into his entrance, ripping him open. He could feel the pain, he could feel the blood that ran down his legs and the way Blaise's nails dug deep into his skin, leaving more cuts. But he couldn't do anything. He couldn't move. He only cried, feeling filthy and destroyed. Tainted.

After an hour or so, Blaise clawing Harry's skin and slapping him, he finished, filling Harry with that nasty stuff that smelled horrible and felt too thick. He slumped over on top of him, making the boys' face wince slightly when he hit the marks on his back from the whipping. The dark skinned man lifted the immobile hex and made the springs release Harry of the binding. He could have turned around and beaten the crap out of Blaise with his bare hands, but he was too weak and broken to do such a thing.

"I'm not finished with you.." Was all he said before getting up, getting dressed, and leaving Harry laying there in blood and semen and pain. In a desperate attempt to get away from the scene of the crime, he got up and got dressed, wincing as he did, crying and cringing, and left the house. He walked for a while, barefoot and leaving blood in the snow, until he couldn't walk anymore. He fell to the ground in a deserted area of London, shaking. It was there that Draco had found him, bruises blooming on his face and neck and his blood dripping to the ground. Draco had stood for a moment, growing angrier and angrier and Harry had watched him with dull, tired eyes. Eventually, he turned and walked away and Harry had figured he left Harry to die, to angry with him for whatever reason. But Harry didn't die. He didn't WANT to die. Despite the fact that he didn't want to live with this memory forever, he didn't want to die. The prospect was too much for him to bare. So he got up and went home, curled on the floor of the sitting room, and stayed there for days before he finally decided it was time to leave, the memories of everything taunting him much too much in this house.

Only now did Harry realize that Draco probably hadn't been angry at _him_ of course, but perhaps what had _happened_ to him. And it made Harry feel a little guilty for thinking so low of him. He was curled up too tight now on Draco's couch, his arms wrapping around his knees and his face hidden there, shaking with the fear that had been clinging too him since that night. He heard the clinking of fine china touching the wood of the coffee table and heard the rustle of clothing as Draco got up and made his way over to the couch, sitting beside the raven haired boy. Harry cringed back from his presence and gasped lightly, starring over at him with wide, frightened eyes until he realized that Draco was starring at him with deep worry in his features. No malice, no hatred. Harry calmed and closed his eyes, trying to bring his breathing back under control.

"Nothing..." And his voice stated that he wasn't going to admit to anything that had happened. Draco frowned deeply, anger in his eyes though it was tainted with worry.

"You're lying...But I won't push you...I just..." He turned away, starring at his feet as he leaned forward on his knees, lacing his fingers together. He seemed to be waring with himself about something, or at least trying to force himself to say something. His face was very white and he took a deep breath, those perfect pale lips parting and Harry watched him with curiosity, finally calm.

"I just wanted to say...I'm sorry."

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**To Be Continued...**


	3. Chapter 3

**I'm so sorry it's taken me so long to get this up. It's been nearly a year hasn't it? at any rate, I'm so sorry for the wait but here it is and I'll try to be more up to date and on time. It's just that real life has really been kicking my ass. hope you like it.**

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Startling green eyes searched sorrowful gray and Harry found himself dumbstruck.

"Sorry? For which bit Malfoy?" The bite in the shorter mans response made the blond flinch. With a sigh, Draco looked up again. For some reason, Harry felt resentment towards Draco for apologizing. If he was so sorry, why hadn't he done anything before?

"Everything. All the things I did to you in school. The war...that night." And this time it was Harry's turn to flinch. Malfoy drew closer, forcing Harry to the corner of the couch, curled into a ball. It was almost unfair. All those years he had spent longing for that boy, ever since sixth year, only to be ruined because someone else had decided they would shatter his trust and bravery. Had thieved from him his sense of security and left him bleeding and broken with scars to remind the raven haired boy that he was tainted. Destroyed. Used. He curled his fingers through his own hair, pulling at the roots and burying his face in his knees.

"I didn't mean to just leave you there. I-"

"Stop." Because Harry couldn't handle the soft tone he used. Couldn't handle the way those gorgeous stormy eyes worried for him. Nor could he handle just how gentle his expression had become over the years.

Just like Harry, Draco had changed.

Though that wasn't exactly a bad thing.

"No. Because I know you think I left you there to die."

"Didn't you?" Harry lifted himself from the couch in order to stare down at Draco with a false look of hate. He didn't want to get close to him now just to be torn apart again. Draco didn't know what had happened to him and it should stay that way...His look diminished, however, when the blonde haired beauty stood in front of him.

"NO!" That hard gaze had Harry's knees buckling and he sat down again. Draco looked every bit the startling slyterhin he had been. Confidence and regalty was worn on him like a cloak. Even though his home was taken from him, parents gone, and wand restricted, Malfoy hadn't lost his pride. It took a hit on Harry's conscious to know that in the worst times, Malfoy had pulled through. Where as he himself curled into a ball, quite literally, and shut off all contact with the outside world aside from his two best friends.

"So why'd you walk away?" The raven haired boys voice was a whisper, timid and hurt. All these years he thought Malfoy had left him to die. What other reason could there be?

"I...I just.." and now it was Malfoy who's voice had dropped. Nervous and, if his soft blush was anything to go by, embarrassed.

"You just what?"

It was here that Malfoy looked up, chewing his lip as though he wasn't going to answer, hoping Harry would just figure it out on his own. The blonde started fidgeting with his long nimble fingers.

"Well...You left a prominent trail of blood you see...I-...I followed it back to see if I could find your attacker and...well..."

"And what? Scream at him for keeping me alive instead of just killing me?!" Harry's voice rose considerably in the small room. Fists clenching on his lap. He had to push him away before the blonde got to close. He seemed so genuine and the raven was close to believing every word he didn't want to believe.

"No, Harry-" Malfoy's voice was almost desperate, but Harry cut him off.

"OH! I know! You were pissed because someone else got to me before you did!"

"HARRY POTTER, YOU SHUT YOUR MOUTH RIGHT NOW!" And he did. Instantly. Malfoy had stood again and was boring down on Harry. Storm gray eyes burned into suddenly liquid emerald and the raven's shaking stood still. Body rigid and mind going blank, he stared back with a dry mouth and a frantically beating heart.

"I wanted to rip that man apart for hurting you! I wanted to curse him to the depths of hell! Anything to get revenge for what he did to you!" If Harry was confused before, it was nothing compared to how he felt now. Revenge? What for? Why would Draco want to get revenge for him?

Thoughts a mess and words caught in his throat, Harry's eyes followed the blonde as he sat beside Harry and fiddled with his fingers. There was only one thing Harry could think of but he kept it to himself. Malfoy wasn't the same anymore. He was so different now. Soft almost. Not that it was a bad thing. It was just unnerving. And dangerous. Harry was scarily close to potentially falling for the gray eyed man beside him.

"When I saw you, lying there, bleeding and weak, I felt...Protective. Like I should have gone back to find the one that did it and kick their ass...curse them or something..." There was a soft blush rising to Draco's cheeks that made him look so desirable that it caused Harry's own blush to rush to his face. "When I came back, you were gone. I tried following the blood...but after a while it faded out..." They sat in silence a while, Harry contemplating reasons why Draco would feel responsible for his revenge. The raven haired man curled up again, unknowingly, and chewed on the corner of his bottom lip. He could feel Draco's eyes searing into him, trying to understand, but Harry kept his face hidden behind strands of jet black hair.

"Where did you go, Harry...I've been so worried, all this time, that you went off and died somewhere...You have no idea how happy I was when I'd heard from Neville that you were still talking to Ron and Hermione...Why did you shut everyone out Harry...What happened to you?"

It was like the walls were caving in. As though the house was suddenly too small for him. Harry stood.

"I have to go."

"Harry, no, do-"

"I HAVE TO GO!" And without giving Draco a chance to really stop him, he raced out of the living room, down the hall and out the door as fast as he could. When he was finally outside, he realized it had started raining. Something he hadn't seen when inside Draco's house. How fitting. Even though Harry could hear the slytherin's voice calling for him to come back, he didn't dare do such a thing. He ran as fast as he could back to his own shabby little house that he shared with a big black wolf. A wolf, he now realized, reminded him of when Sirius transformed into an animagus. And that just brought on a whole new and different kind of pain. Tears mingled in a dance down his face with the rain drops and the moment he got to his door, he merely fell to the porch floor and curled against the wood, holding his head to keep the demons at bay...

….

Three days had passed and still Harry hadn't called him back or gone over. Whenever someone knocked at his door he simply ignored it. The 'chosen one' was trying to ignore everyone and everything. Unfortunately, Hermione was a different story. She had called him almost constantly, as well as his publisher, and she had owled almost five times before he finally told her to just come over. Which she had done anyway even before she got the letter. Harry didn't realize though until there was a pounding at his door that made Jet start barking and growling like mad. It wasn't until the raven opened the door with one hand on the wolf's collar that he saw his frizzy haired best friend with an unopened letter in her hand, brown eyes incredulous and face irritated.

"Really Harry? You finally owl me as I'm making my way over?" She sighed, shaking her head. "But of course you couldn't have known. Still, it would have been nice to hear from you sooner. Ron has been going ballistic and I haven't been much better! You can't just drop off the face of the earth on us like that! What happened to you anyway to make us worry and ignore us like that. I mean, granted it's only been three days but you're never like this! Even after getting jumped like that you still spoke to us in some way! Honestly Harry, you should really think sometimes!" She had stormed her way into his shabby little living room as he sat down in his chair and rubbed his hands over his face. The brunette girl was in a rampage. Her hair was wilder than usual and it almost stood on end. Jet was just happy to see her, wagging his tail and trying to jump on her. She ignored him though, turning worried and confused eyes to him.

"I've called multiple times and I've owled and emailed you and everything! What happened Harry...?" By this point she was sitting on the edge of the couch and starring at him as if just noticing his distraught face. He smiled slightly and shrugged, shaking his head.

"I'm fine Hermione. Just been a little sick is all." He took of his glasses and looked down at them as he cleaned them off on his black t-shirt to keep from looking at her so she wouldn't be able to read his eyes. She was too smart for that. It would only be a matter of time before she figured it out anyway. Said girl let out a frustrated sigh and stood again, running her hands through her hair, engagement ring sparkling in the light. Her and Ron had been engaged for about a year as of that day and were supposed to be getting married that summer. Over in the kitchen, the phone rang and the raven just sat there, pretending he didn't hear it and giving all of his attention to Jet who was panting and wagging his tail in front of him.

"Aren't you going to get that?" He didn't respond, scratching behind the wolf's ears and listening to her sigh again and stomp off into the kitchen.

"Isn't she in a fowl mood?" Jet barked in reply and he heard his best friend call out from the kitchen.

"I heard that!" Harry chuckled. There was a small silence in which the phone had cut off but Hermione didn't say anything. Instead she came back and folded her arms, tapping one high heeled foot as she tilted her head.

"Harry..."

"..Yes?" Her voice was stern and the grown man felt like he was about to get a rather stern lecture.

"How long has it been since you've checked your messages?"

"Uhhh..."

"You have twelve messages on your answering machine Harry...For you, that's quite a bit. After all, you barely talk to anyone now adays. Which means, you've ignored every single call that has come in. From me and your editor. I've only called five times. I'm assuming your editor called you probably two times. Which means there's five messages on your machine from someone else...You're hiding something." And that was his cue to get up.

"Coffee?" The taller male walked into the kitchen, whistling merrily and hearing the click of heels as Hermione followed him.

"Harry Potter you spill it right now!"

"Sorry, I don't know what you're talking about." He decided playing dumb would be the best idea since he didn't really want to explain how much he cared about Draco Malfoy to the one person that thought he was a fowl git. He began getting out the things he would need to make coffee, ignoring the feeling of eyes burning into his back as he did so.

"Fine...Then I'll just go through them for you." Panic rose in Harry's chest.

"No don't!" He turned but it was too late. Hermione already pressed the play button. The usual auto-tone voice started speaking, explaining the amount of messages. Message one was from his editor explaining that she needed the copy of his last book by Friday which was today. Lucky for him he had finished the draft early and was ready to send it in pronto. The second one, however, was from the fowl git himself.

"Harry, listen, I know I must have said something to upset you the other day but I'm so sorry and I want to talk to you. Call me back. Please." Green eyes turned slowly to see a pair of big browns glaring murderously in his direction. The next message was from her stating that he needed to call her back the moment he got the message. Which of course he didn't. And again, from Malfoy.

"Harry. Pick up the phone...I know you're home and I know you're ignoring me...I'll give you one more day Harry." It seemed that Hermione's anger was just growing and the raven worried about her blood pressure. Hermione, the editor, Hermione again. Then Draco. Harry was really starting to hate him at the moment as he watch Hermione's face go from angry to down right murderous.

"Damnit Harry I swear if you don't pick up your phone I'm going to come over there and pick it up for you! Call me back." Hermione again.

"HARRY POTTER! PICK UP YOUR PHONE! I swear to Merlin Harry if you don't call me back I-...I'll curse you Potter!" And finally, his last message which actually made the raven stare at the phone in disbelief.

"That's it. I'm coming over there and if you don't answer that fucking door I'm knocking it down. I don't care what you say. I'm done worrying." There was a loud smash and a curse before the phone was hung up and the wizard who was apparently going to be cursed for not calling back felt his face go white.

"Care explaining now?" Her voice was threatening and before she could even bother to go off on a rampage, there was a loud pounding at the door. Both of them jumped and Harry rushed over to the bathroom and locked himself inside, peeking out only to tell Hermione "Don't let him in!" in a loud whisper. His heart was hammering in his chest with nerves and expectations he didn't want to expect. Draco had had this effect on him for the longest time and he had just begun to get over it when suddenly the blonde decided to rush back into his life. It was too much to handle at once. Unfortunately, against his wishes, those heels clicked all the way to the front door and opened it. The man's voice echoed through the house angrily.

"Where is he?" It seemed that his traitor friend pointed out where he was because in the next second the bathroom door was yanked open and there stood a fuming Slytherin and Harry was actually a little fearful of his life. He smiled nervously and waved.

"Hahaha...heyyy.."

"Get out here. Now." Malfoy grabbed him up by his ear and pulled him out to the living room, ignoring his protests of pain and Jet's growling. The wizard that was being so terribly man handled was sat down on the couch and the man he loved stood above him, hands on his hips and glaring down at him.

"Where have you been?! Don't you realize how scared I was when you rushed out like that?! I've tried calling probably a hundred times and you never answer! You never even call back when I leave a message! I know that I must have said something to upset you before but Merlin Harry the least you could do is tell me what I did wrong! Who knows what could have happened to you running home in that storm! You could have gotten sick and died for all I knew!"

"It's only been three days Malfoy." Harry pointed it out timidly, rubbing the back of his neck and looking off to the side. Deep down, he was actually quite pleased that Malfoy had been worried about him, though it confused him as to why, but he was also very aware that his best friend was watching them curiously, mostly Harry. She seemed to be grasping the concept fast though because her face was turning more and more into that of a shocked expression the more Harry blushed and the more Malofy yelled and ranted.

"I don't care if it's been three days! Why didn't you call me back?! Look, if you don't want me to ask what happened then just say so! Don't go running off like that again! And don't try to tell me that you don't want to talk to me at all because I can see it in your eyes that you do!"

"HARRY POTTER!" His face was probably redder than roses and Jet just looked confused. Green eyes looked over the rim of his glasses at his friend, frowning deeply. She had gotten it. It was obvious by the half angry half amused look on her face. She marched over, pushing an appalled looking Slytherin out of her way and grabbing hold of his arm to pull him upstairs and into his study. The study he had made reflection-less.

"How come you never told us you had a crush on Malfoy?!" Her voice was hushed but still loud and Harry panicked, making shushing motions and starring at her with wide eyes.

"Don't let him hear you!" His voice, quieter than hers, was urgent and she just folded her arms, waiting.

"I didn't want anyone to know...It was weird and back then no one knew I was gay...Besides, you guys hate his guts. What would it have looked like if after all those years of us fighting and bickering that I suddenly decided 'Oh hey! I think he's gorgeous and amazing and I just wanna eat him up!"

"Too much information."

"Don't you understand Hermione? I couldn't let anyone know. Especially you and Ron. You guys would never look at me the same..." A gentle silence fell between them in which Harry felt very distant. She knew and she would most likely tell Ron and then both of them would never talk to him again. Well, at least then he would truly become detached from the world... The brunette went to say something, face looking apologetic but she was interrupted by an irritated blonde downstairs.

"I'm not finished yelling at you Harry Potter!" The two of them sighed in unison and the raven was surprised when his fellow Gryffindor put a hand on his shoulder and smiled at him.

"Go talk to him and make things right. Don't worry, I'm not upset with you and I'll call you later. YOU'D BETTER PICK UP THIS TIME TOO!" And with that, she walked out, leaving Harry alone and confused in his study, debating to actually go and work things out with the man he had been falling in love with for the past few years...

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**Reviews are encouraged! 3**


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